The Story Business
by Hermes Liar
Summary: Sitting in the half-dark store room next to her caisse, he mused that it probably didn't matter. If it had been his death, he would have wanted someone to visit him too, no matter that he was a virtual stranger. Anything to keep back the darkness. AU
1. A Little Exposition

**This first chapter has been revamped just a little since I last uploaded it.**

**Disclaimers: Merlin belongs to the BBC**

* * *

><p>He had quite liked Nimueh. Sure, he had never shared a scene with her before she was put away but he had seen her from afar two or three times. Sitting in the half-dark store room next to her caisse, he mused that it probably didn't matter. If it had been his death, he would have wanted someone to visit him too, no matter that he was a virtual stranger. Anything to keep back the darkness. It got pretty dark sometimes and he wasn't entirely sure, but he got the feeling that it was all going to get a bit darker.<p>

Back in the early days he didn't have a name, he was built to be one of the nameless replaceable knights. Every week a few new ones were produced to fill out the ranks, sometimes to swell out the army in order to look impressive, but more often than not new knights were added to bring the numbers back up to their starting size. He used to stand in the third row middle for scenes when the knights were training or taking orders from Arthur. Sometimes the knights got to yell which he particularly liked, so rarely was his voice heard on set. It was during one of these training sessions, the ones where Arthur got to show off his fighting prowess against three nondescript knights simultaneously, that he had first caught a glimpse of Nimueh. She was walking up the stairs, her dark hair pinned up behind her ears, her rich purple cloak trailing gracefully on the worn steps. Pausing in his attack on Arthur, he saw her glance in his direction as she entered the front doors. She had eyes like ice. He faltered, missing his chance to parry Arthur's thrust and had the air knocked out of him. He lay on the ground feigning unconsciousness as he knew They would want to take advantage of this great opportunity to portray Arthur's vast skill. He didn't begrudge Them making use of this unscripted moment; They only wanted to tell a good story which was something he felt he might be able to relate to. Hell, he didn't even blame Arthur for his blow although he knew that They would put him back after this scene so that he might have a chance to recuperate for a later one. He knew the blow would begin to smart long before They would get an opportunity to tend to him; They had to keep their priorities in order with Arthur and the other permanents. What bothered him most about the whole affair was that Nimueh, although he did not yet know that was her name, had watched his defeat. He was the best of the knights with a quarterstaff too, dammit! Eyes still closed, he recalled the force of her eyes and had to fight back a smile. He hoped to see her again.

He did. They left him in his caisse far longer than he had first estimated. When They finally brought him back, the story had moved forward by three episodes and he had missed on his chance to guard Uther's banquet hall. That scene had had lines and he had practiced them during his free time with the friendly knight who stood diagonal to him in the fourth row of formation; that guy got to fill in for him after the incident in the courtyard. He couldn't help feeling at the time that maybe They were punishing him; people who could not do the jobs they were made for became a liability that They could neither afford nor maintain. Cracking his ribs had cost good money and time. But it had been worth it. Walking out of the store room, he had passed two of Them taking Nimueh back after her argument with Uther. Frozen in indecision, he had simply stared at her nonplused as she flirted with Them. Once They had escorted her past, his feet regained movement and he stupidly began to traipse after their strange looking group.

He knew about Nimueh by then. He had casually mentioned her to the others as the knights waited for the new orders and he lay strapped to a stretcher to be put back without further injury. The others had laughed and Owain, the newest of the knights to receive a name, something he couldn't stop bragging about, he had said, "you should watch out for her. I hear they built her just for sex appeal." The group had collectively shuddered; characters that were created solely for sex appeal were never treated very well by those that worked in the back store room. One heard horror stories. The characters that had the misfortune to be saddled with such a poor job in time gained warped personalities and often had to be put away after very short periods to avoid any "accidents" that might happen. He wasn't sure that Nimueh was one of those poor creatures though. She was built to be fatally beautiful sure, but she was also dangerously clever.

Following Them down the corridors between shelves he wondered what he was doing. The group stopped at a sliding ladder at the end of the row. One of Them climbed up and labored to unlock one of the caisses. He had been surprised to find that Nimueh rested three rows over and six slots up from him; although he later mused that he wouldn't have had cause to know where she was kept because They never brought the two out at the same time. Most persons were brought out one by one to ensure that no discontent spread through the group and also, or at least this was the reason They gave, to make sure that each individual got the individual care that he or she might need. He thought that might have been written on a pamphlet somewhere. They handed her a cup of what looked like coffee, he saw the steam rising from where he had hid. He must have made a noise or something when she brought the cup to her lips because she paused, and staring directly at his hiding spot she toasted him with a wry smile before downing the beverage. He knew it hadn't been coffee. He had turned away then, not wanting to see what he knew would follow next. Shaking off the remnants of his lethargy, he went to the warm-up room with the others who had also been brought out for the next scene. She had smiled at him! Granted, it had been a half smirk but still it was utterly beautiful and hypnotizing.

Knowing then what he did about the beautiful ones he shouldn't have been surprised, but as he was relatively new to the story business it had come as a knife in the dark. She died. As the enemy in a twisted scene that was supposed to bring some relief to the "good" side. He liked Merlin, what little he had seen of him, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that someone with such a sweet personality, the champion of unicorn virtue, could find anything good in killing such a beautiful creature. He supposed that he should have expected it from the beginning. Not all logic worked itself out in the story business.

After They had cleared off the Isle of the Blessed, turned off the rain, and furnished Merlin and Gaius with some dry clothes and hot soup, four of Them gathered up Nimueh's body to bring her to the caisses. She was switched off when They took her back, as she had been for the final scene when They had simulated lightning. He wondered why They even bothered to put her back once she had "died," but he supposed that she was useful to have on hand if They ever decided to retcon the story.

He went to visit her two episodes past her death and who knows how many weeks. They had recognized his talent with the quarterstaff in between shots of the Questing Beast. Apparently, all the practiced duels with the fight coach were observed by some unknown means. He had been trying his hand against two opponents in a draft scene when Nimueh had died. They were impressed enough by his fighting-a talent which They seemed to have disproportionally bestowed upon him in the production process and which momentarily left Them at a loss- that They decided to write him into an actual scene based on his own merit. They also gave him a name. Sir Leon, knight of Camelot.

He brought flowers when he visited. He had heard that flowers were an appropriate way to show respect. Nimueh had died just as he was beginning anew and he felt that he needed to express some form of gratitude. Gods she was beautiful. Thrusting the flowers through the caisse handle, he prayed that They might leave the bouquet at her side for longer than a few hours. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands after that. Should he cross his hands in front respectfully or assume the stance of a soldier, hands behind his back? In the end he compromised and just fiddled with his sword. He wasn't sure what to say to her. Perhaps that he missed her presence around set. And that it felt strange to have to grieve for someone who wasn't really dead.

Taking a seat on the topmost rungs of the ladder he looked out over the gray vista of the store room spread beneath his feet. He should have been training with the knights for his premiere scene as a named character in a few hours but he had felt a need to visit Nimueh and gain a moment's peace. And it was peaceful in there, if you ignored the thought that the room was full of silent unseen characters, an idea he endeavored to avoid. He wondered whether They had already formed new persons for the next series. He tried humming a little to brighten the mood but the sound only bounced off the nearest adjacent shelf and he stopped, hoping to avoid one of Them coming to investigate. He wasn't strictly allowed to be in there unaccompanied. It was, he thought, much like visiting your own graveyard while you were still away on vacation.

**Please Review!**


	2. The Once and Future Queen Part I

**Here's where the story begins in earnest.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC.**

* * *

><p>The whole situation with the horse came as a bit of a surprise actually. He didn't think that They were really going to make such a big deal about his request. But at the start of the day he was told point blank that while he was allowed to ride for very specific scenes under strict supervision, They would not be granting him a horse. And They most certainly would not give him a horse to let him joust, so don't even think about it. He could stand next to the horse and give his lines but the real jousting would be done by someone with some experience and <span>without<span> a name.

"But Arthur does his own stunts," he argued, "and he has a name."

"No jousting," was all They said. "No horse."

He couldn't understand it, just a matter of days ago he had had no name and They were perfectly content to pelt rocks and arrows at him. But now that They had gifted him with a name he wasn't even allowed to mount a horse. One would certainly think that dodging an arrow took more experience than riding a horse. But as always, Their word was law. No jousting, no horse. Did a name really make such a difference? If so, Leon no longer wanted his.

The guy who would be filling in for him was nice enough about it. Leon pretended that he wasn't fuming and tried to be polite when the guy introduced himself as the stuntsman. He was of Leon's height and had similar enough features to him that if you didn't look to close, he could pass for Leon (at a distance, on a cloudy night, from behind). There was something bland and forgettable about the stuntsman though that made it hard to focus directly on him when he wasn't in plain sight. Leon wondered if he himself had seemed like that to the permanent and the named before everything was changed. It wasn't a pleasant notion.

Leon stood with the stuntsman in the industrial stables waiting as They chose a horse from the supply for "Leon" to ride. He wasn't sure why he needed to be there for this process, it wasn't like he had any say in the matter. They had horses of every size, shape, and color stored away for any situation that might arise. A group of Them were clustered around a stall marked as containing a 15 hands high Blue Roan. A flashy enough horse just right for a young noble at the court, but was it up to the job of its knightly duties? Arguing the merits of that horse versus one farther down the row, the group of Them strolled off, the stuntsman faithfully tagging along behind. Leon stayed where he was, just to see if anyone would notice. The group continued on without a backward glance. Right, he knew when he wasn't needed. Sighing, whether from melancholy or relief he couldn't say for sure, Leon made his way in the opposite direction.

Walking between the stalls, Leon felt a shiver trickle down his spine. It felt like a large blanket had been dropped on the industrial stable. The sound of the other group faded quickly and even his footsteps, the only audible sound in the room, were muffled and came to him thick and slow through the surrounding air. It was bad enough walking through the store room sometimes, but this was much worse. All the horses were visible in their stalls standing upright and facing the middle aisle but all were absolutely motionless.

Turning off the main aisle Leon found another little hallway with a row of horses on either side. One horse in particular caught his eye. The right stall second to the end had no mark on the door. Despite its lack of an official sign of occupation the stall contained a beautiful black horse much taller than the Roan and infinitely more subtle in appearance.

At the stall door Leon leaned against the wood and surveyed first the occupant of the stall and then the surrounding horses. Each horse was expertly groomed and in fit condition but an air of neglect hung over all of them, like new toys that had been packed away after only one use. Sighing again Leon gently stroked the black horse's nose. The pink flesh at the very tip was the softest he had ever felt. This horse, out of all of them relegated to this overlooked corner, looked the most worn. This was a toy that had gotten a lot of use once upon a time but was for some reason cast aside or forgotten.

"I feel like someone who's been overlooked too" Leon whispered to the horse. "Less recently than before they noticed me, but in some ways I've been feeling more useless and redundant than ever."

The horse made no reply. Leon continued to stroke the horse idly, wondering whether they would just recast his part if he failed to show up to the jousting grounds on time. So lost in thought was he that it took him several seconds to realize that his knuckles were being dusted with a slight moisture. Several more seconds led to the recognition that this horse had begun breathing which could only mean one thing. Diving headfirst into the stall, Leon only just managed to get out of sight before one of Them came around the corner.

The first thing that struck Leon as he peered out between the slats of the stall door was how odd it was to see one of Them alone. They were very much of a pack mentality as far as he could tell. This one was dressed like all the rest and had a very official feel despite being solitary. This one carried a key in its fist which was used to open a metal box at the mouth of the hallway. Craning his neck Leon watched as a code was keyed into the pad. A light blinked blue and then faded. The box was closed and secured once more.

Watching the retreating solitary figure Leon let out the breath he had been holding since he'd dived into the stall. That's when the horse above him reared. Yelping in surprise, Leon rolled out of the way of the descending hooves. The horse reared again and Leon leapt to his feet. Hand out he caught the horse's bridle in his fist and yanked its head toward him. Hooves danced about and the black horse tried to bite him. He jumped back again but kept a tight hold. Looking the horse squarely in the eye he whispered, "I'm not one of Them."

The horse continued to dance about but quieted enough to study him. Deciding he wasn't much of a threat the horse finally came to a standstill and began snuffling around Leon's pockets for food. Trying to keep his fingers out of harm's way, Leon proffered the bit of apple he had brought for to the horse They were going to choose for him. The horse nipped near his fingers but took the food without protest. Only then did Leon notice that all the other horses were awake too and that the solitary figure was coming back.

This one of Them carried a feedbag on each shoulder, a feat Leon knew he couldn't match. Crouching down where he hoped he wouldn't be seen, Leon put a finger to his lips as the black horse lowered its head to Leon's shoulder. Having finished the apple bit the horse began to nibble at the brand new red cloak that Leon had been issued. Swatting the horse away Leon prayed the movement had gone undetected.

The horses shrieked as the solitary figure drew near them but soon forgot their fear at the appearance of food in their buckets. The figure spoke to them and whispered words that Leon could not hear. This too was different. It almost seemed like the figure was comforting them, but that couldn't be right. Where was the institutional feel? Where was the coldly clinical treatment that he had come to expect?

The figure at last came to the end of the row. Passing by the black horse the figure fed the neighboring horses before turning back to Leon's stall. The horse began to stomp its feet once more in agitation. Setting the feedbag down the figure reached out a hand to stroke the horse's nose exactly as Leon had moments before. The figure's fingers were centimeters away when the horse moved faster than Leon had yet seen biting down hard on the fleshy skin between finger and thumb. The figure made not a sound but Leon felt a wave of pain and saw the figure remove his hand. Through the brief agonizing haze Leon thought he might have heard the figure murmur, "I'm sorry."

Footsteps, the unlocking of a metal box, then silence, the black horse next to him frozen as a statue once again. Voices, "are you done?" and "yes, I have finished." Then, there came a brief period of whispering and "we have to find him." Then the fading of two pairs of footsteps. Leon felt the blanket drop down on the stable once more. It weighed more than he remembered and he tried popping his ears to relieve some of the weight, feeling as though he had been dropped down a well very quickly. Were They looking for him? If so, that was a first.

Getting to his feet Leon dusted off his knees and tried to pull off stray bits of straw and horse hair. The horses were heartbreakingly still again; solidly frozen in positions reminiscent of the actions they had been caught in. The black horse's neck stretched to the side in an arc. Leon ran his fingers over the taut sinews and shivered at the coldness. Skin that no longer felt like skin and muscles that should have been burning with blood transformed into lifeless granite. Leon drew his hand away and wrapped the cloak more tightly around him.

He swung himself back over the gate trying to get some warmth back into his suddenly chilled limbs. It was bad enough knowing what happened to items not in use, but seeing it en masse made it ten times worse. Jogging down the aisle Leon paused at the corner to take one last look at the second to last stall. From afar the view was almost peaceful but Leon couldn't shake the fear that was blossoming in his chest.

**Please Review!**


	3. The Once and Future Queen Part II

**Loving the dark start to the new series! All the faint screams in the background really send shivers down the spine don't they?**

**Anyway, looking forward to what the writers have come up with this year. Should be good. I heard that Howard Overman (writer/creator of Misfits) was doing a bit of writing for Merlin these days.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC.**

* * *

><p>Leon tried to put as much distance between himself and the hallway as quickly as possible. The frozen horses on the main aisle did not make his heart race as much as those that he had seen blazing with life one minute and quite still the next. And some of these horses were no longer turned off, instead merrily munching on hay in bright and gleaming stalls. Leon paused at one such stall to let his breathing slow to a normal speed. The signs on the stall doors removed the mystery of why these horses were awake, for these were horses that were assigned to several of the permanents. The stall that Leon gripped in an effort to stop gasping belonged to Prince Arthur's horse and was the nicest arraignment Leon had yet seen, as only befitting Arthur's status within the business.<p>

Finding the stuntsman was easier than Leon expected. Or rather, it was the stuntsman who easily found him seated against one of the posts. Frankly the whole incident with the horses had unnerved him more than he cared to admit. Closing his eyes for a brief second Leon focused on his lines for the upcoming scene and almost leapt when he heard the stuntsman's voice right above his head. Eyes snapping open he glared up at the man. "You're going to get punched if you sneak up on the wrong person like that."

"I called your name twice!"

Well that explained it, Leon wasn't yet used to his name. It was like trying to break in a stiff new leather jacket. When he first put it on it hung off him in a formless shape, chilly and bruising where it poked at his skin. But slowly and surely he was warming to it and was bending it into a layer that showed him off and protected him from the cold, cold anonymity. Shaking his head to clear the fog Leon softened his glare and said, "Did you have something to say or are you just hovering?"

"Where were you? We came back here after They picked the horse but you were gone! I had to spend half an hour looking for you. They missed the shooting window because of you."

"I'm here now, I'll just apologize to Them and we can do the scene."

The stuntsman stared at him in astonishment, "It's raining! We can't do the scene today."

Leon winced. It was bad enough that he missed the shoot but to have the scene delayed by a whole day? He would be surprised if They didn't put him back early again.

"Look, I'm sorry I messed things up. It's just, after you left with Them there wasn't that much for me to do so I thought I'd look around. I didn't realize I'd been gone so long."

The stuntsman nodded and sighed, "I know. I just followed Them around and agreed whenever They asked my opinion. They didn't really want to hear what I had to say. Listen, I've come on Their request to tell you to report to the Upper office. Immediately."

At least the guy had the decency to look sympathetic.

The trudge through the rain was just as Leon expected, extremely cold and over much quicker than he would have liked. Inside the main sound stage house Leon wrung as much water out of his cloak as possible creating a nice puddle on the floor that someone else would have to deal with. He dawdled another few moments straightening his clothes and fixing his hair. Finally he could delay no longer. Taking the stairs on the right two at a time he found himself knocking at the door of the Upper office with no idea of what he was going to say.

There was no answer. Leon knocked again. There was still no answer. Quietly Leon pushed the door open with his fingertips wishing he still had his quarterstaff or at least a sword, just for safety's sake. The office was empty. Leon looked at the door again, yep this was the right office, so where were They? Figuring that They might be right back Leon took a seat on the black leather couch that rested just inside the door.

Settling back into the stiff cushions Leon closed his eyes again and counted back from one hundred. Everyone had a trick they used to calm down before returning to the store room. One of his fellow knights made maps in his head, a different knight practiced French verbs, and another one recited recipes for bread (which was strange because Leon didn't think he could actually cook). It was a trick you had to learn early to get by or you'd eventually go crazy.

By the time Leon hit negative twenty three he was feeling calmer about everything, which was lucky because that's when he heard voices outside the office.

"But is he ready?"

"We don't know. We might have to let him go." This second voice was lighter than the first and sounded younger, although Leon wasn't a reliable judge when it came to Their ages.

The first voice again, hoarse and gravely, "No. Let it play out."

Leon leaned closer to the crack between door and frame hoping to hear more as the voices dropped down to whispers. He could barely make out the voice of the first but the second was less adept at cloaking his voice. Leon listened to the whispers for a few more seconds picking out only, "You really think…?" and "Yes, I suppose that's true."

The first voice cut through, loud enough to hear again. "Don't make me wait forever."

Leon scooted down to the other end of the couch as he saw the doorknob turn. One of the speakers entered and moved to the desk on the opposite wall not sparing any looks in his direction. The other lingered by the door, his eyes focused squarely on Leon with something akin to curiosity.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the figure settled into the desk behind the chair. After a few moments of shuffling through the papers in a neat stack the figure at the desk spoke, revealing himself to be the first speaker, "so glad you could join us sir knight. Actually I am loath to use such formalities, they put distance between people. We are all friends here, are we not Leon? May I simply call you Leon?"

Leon shrugged, "it's your name."

The figure chuckled and finally lifted his eyes from the clearly important and official documents to look directly at Leon. Leaning forward in his seat slightly he fixed Leon with a winning smile and said, "I think you will find that it is indeed _your_ name, Leon."

Leon was unsure how to respond to that. He was also still slightly unsure as to the reason for the meeting. People who went missing for a few minutes were not generally summoned to the Upper Office.

"You're wondering why you're here."

"A bit."

"We are concerned with your behavior Leon. Most would be thrilled to be in your position, excited to finally have a chance to be recognized. But you Leon, I can't figure you out. You've never done anything out of character, aside from that unfortunate fighting incident, and yet all of a sudden you have the notion that being granted a name gives you license to cavort around and make people wait. Let me inform you, it does not. I don't know where you've gotten these ideas from and I don't care. We expect your perfect behavior and we will be forced to step in if we do not receive it."

He smiled again and nodded to the other figure, "Leon, you have a good thing now. Don't mess it up."

The one in the doorway firmly took Leon's elbow and politely, but purposefully, showed him to the door. Once outside the figure let go and stepped back inside the office. The figure at the desk had already turned back to the stack of papers which seemed to have grown during the short meeting. The door swung shut.

When someone tells you not to do something, the automatic response is the impulse to do whatever it is that you're not supposed to do. And as Leon was learning, he was kind of an impulsive guy.

**Please Review! Suggestions, critiques, hate mail (I hope not), etc.**


End file.
